The Grass is Always Greener on the Other [Forbidden] Side

My children are playing with a toilet paper roll and eating little bits of the remnant paper and I am not about to stop them. Taking the roll away from them will result in a dramatic series of moments that may culminate with one or both of them performing the wet noodle when I try to pick them up and re-seed them in a new, baby-toy filled location. Why are forbidden toys always more desirable? It’s evident to me now that from birth we are programmed to want what we can’t have. A million colorful, noisy, sparkly, toys and they want cardboard.

Madeline is completely waking now. She still crawls but she can walk across the room and she frequently does, so proud of herself. She still does it like a little baby Frankenstein, with her hands out straight in front of her. Avery loves walking on her knees. She can walk upright but chooses not to. And when she does, she does it in a different way than Maddie: It is hard to describe but she sort of bounces as she takes little mini steps. Yesterday, though, she was walking like a champ, showing off for her visiting cousin, aunt and grandmother.

I kind of sense a change in them in that they seem to really be understanding much more of what we are saying to them. Language is starting to click, instead of being an endless stream of noise to them. If I point to something or ask them to hand me something, they respond appropriately sometimes. After they eat and I tell Madeline to give me her hands, she holds them up for me to wipe. Little things like that. I am looking forward to the point when they understand enough language to accept brides.

And a note on food, another round of frustration regarding the capricious tendencies of baby appetites. This is a typical scenario: The girls sample a raisin that I plucked from cereal. They love it. They eat is with gusto and desperately look round for more. So I buy a little box of raisins. They eat the entire mini box in one sitting. So I buy a big box of raisins. You see where this is going. Raisins are now on the I Don’t like It Anymore list. Out of the blue they started to like yogurt, so got yogurt-covered raisins. Not a hit. Avery puts the raisin in her mouth, eats off the yogurt and spits out the raisin.

Their diapers enclose an entire food pyramid.

Every day is an eating adventure. Waffles are back on the okay list today. An entire peach was consumed (the last each I gave them was spit out). And the once favorite watermelon is now all over my floor. Wagon wheels pasta, breaded chicken cutlets, broccoli and pizza are constant crow pleasers. And pizza. I am pretty sure Avery’s first words will be “Hand over that pizza, woman!” The other day I was having leftover pizza for lunch, much to Avery’s consternation, while the girls had chicken and pasta. She went nuts with pizza desire. I had to take my slice over to the window and eat it out of Avery’s line of sight. A better mom might have shared her slice.

And speaking of food, I noticed that my absolute favorite pretzel nuggets have been restocked at a local store. I have had a hard time finding them since Christmas. But there they were in that shiny blue bag, one pound of delicious sourdough goodness, screaming out to me. I literally stopped in my tracks and looked at them for 20 seconds. I didn’t buy them because I don’t want a handful, I want the entire bag. They are my siren song of food. I want to eat the entire bag. And the only way I feel like I have control over this is to not have them in my home.

It’s pathetic. I am almost 36 years old and should have this under control. I feel like no one else has this insane relationship with a bag of pretzels. Last night I thought about putting my clothes back on and going out and buying them. But I didn’t. There are certain food that are triggers, so to speak, and those nuggets are one of them. This struggle is annoying. Thinking about them is robbing me of valuable thinking-other-thoughts time. Feeling like I have no control over a two-centimeter long piece of baked dough makes me feel so blah. And so my control issues manifests its ugly little head in the snack aisle too.

Pictured above, look at Maddie and all of her pacifiers. And Avery in Skye’s hand-me-down hat.